After listening to it, I was amazed—how could someone survive a venomous snake bite? You must have incredible luck. Liu Jianguo said sometimes it’s hard for a person to die; after sharing a few cigarettes with the King of Hell, he was sent back.
On Liu Jianguo’s thigh, there was indeed a scar from a venomous snake bite.
I asked again, “How did you know that the insect master was called Ruan Sanjia?”
Liu Jianguo laughed. “Later, after we took control of Zheyin Mountain, I interrogated the prisoners. In the vast mountains, the remains of the five men—Tian Fugui and the others—were nowhere to be found. After I retired from the military, I came back every once in a while to search, but for years, I found nothing.”
I let out a long sigh, feeling deeply unsettled.
In Chinese tradition, while there’s the saying, “Why must one return wrapped in horsehide?” it has been a centuries-old custom to bring the remains of those who died in battle back to their homeland.
Xie Lingyu said, “This time, let Xiao Qi help Uncle find them all and bring them home.”
I replied, “Don’t make promises we might not keep. That Ruan Sanjia chasing them with insects sounds bizarre from what you’ve described. A man who spends his life dealing with poisonous creatures must have an extreme personality. The disappearance of those five men’s remains in the wilderness gives me an indescribable feeling—like a weight pressing on my chest.”
Little Rascal, lulled by the story, had already fallen asleep. He Qingling curled up beside him, her eyes also drooping. After finishing his tale, Liu Jianguo stood up and said everyone should rest. “Tomorrow, we’ll set out. There are plenty of medicinal herbs in the border area—we might find what you need.”
I had been jostled around on the train all night, and by the time Liu Jianguo finished his story, it was already past 1 a.m. After seeing Xie Lingyu and Liu Jianguo off, I collapsed onto the floor without even taking off my shoes and fell into a deep sleep. Yet, by 6 a.m., I was wide awake again, the sky outside just beginning to lighten. Unable to fall back asleep, I lay there, replaying Liu Jianguo’s story in my mind, feeling increasingly moved until tears welled up uncontrollably. Little Rascal looked at me strangely.
I decided to take a shower, shave off my stubble, and freshen up. Turning on the TV, I saw numerous travel ads for Yunnan on the local channels, including some beautiful songs promoting Lijiang.
At 9 a.m., I had Xie Lingyu retreat into the jade ruler. After breakfast, Liu Jianguo and Geng Zhi bid farewell, and we set off again in the military-licensed jeep—I had no idea how Liu Jianguo had obtained it. He drove me around Kunming’s major stores, buying gear for wilderness survival—flashlights, hiking boots, ropes, a compass, a canteen, insect repellent—then exchanged some Vietnamese dong and U.S. dollars at the bank, packed some RMB, and bought a simple Vietnamese phrasebook for the journey.
Liu Jianguo was sharp and resourceful. He even packed two sharp Swiss army knives, though he scoffed at civilian-market blades, insisting that a military bayonet was the real “killing tool.”
Passing a small shop, I got out and bought Xie Lingyu a Yunnan-style hat. I also picked up pet hats for Little Rascal and He Qingling. Once everything was settled, out of habit, I prepared some red thread and drew a few ghost-trapping and corpse-suppressing talismans. I had originally planned to gather animal droppings or procure some “virgin boy’s urine,” but those plans fell through. I figured I’d ask locals at the border for help later.
Liu Jianguo drove us out of Kunming toward Malipo County, winding through towering mountains. His driving skills were exceptional, and he boasted about honing them on railroad tracks—how entire squads would flip massive factory trucks back onto the rails if they toppled.
Xie Lingyu listened to his stories like a delighted audience.
I, however, suspected Liu Jianguo had a habit of embellishing—not just praising others but also polishing his own image.
Uncle Jianguo explained that the Sino-Vietnamese border disputes weren’t fully resolved until 1999, but Zheyin Mountain had remained under Chinese control ever since.
The mountain roads were toughest on Little Rascal. After a good night’s rest, he was carsick again, staring at me helplessly. I patted his head and said, “Don’t let He Qingling look down on you. Be strong—you’re a man.”
Liu Jianguo laughed. “This little black dog is quite clever. His meat must be tasty too.” Little Rascal barked indignantly, glaring at him.
Liu Jianguo pulled over when we saw a passenger bus stopped by armed police about ten meters ahead. Officers were searching the vehicle for drugs, with two trained police dogs sniffing around the tires and undercarriage.
Among the thirty-plus passengers, many were tourists grumbling loudly. A few resisted having their luggage checked until a handsome officer, rifle in hand, barked, “Step aside, unless you want an accident.” They quickly backed off.
The dogs finished their inspection.
Liu Jianguo, having done similar work before, approached the officer—a striking young man named Lin Dawei—and exchanged a few words. Lin Dawei, rifle still at the ready, called out two ethnic minority passengers carrying bamboo baskets who had already been cleared. They waved their hands, claiming not to understand Mandarin.
Lin Dawei’s eyes hardened. Two more officers stepped forward, rifles trained. One man suddenly convulsed, collapsing with blood at his mouth—likely a swallowed drug packet had burst. The other dropped to his knees, begging, “It’s my first time, I swear!”
His accent revealed he was actually Han Chinese.
The officers, wary of resistance, knocked him out with a rifle butt. Both smugglers were hauled away—one for emergency treatment, the other for extraction.
Lin Dawei saluted Liu Jianguo and asked for details. Liu Jianguo, in a gray leather jacket, returned the salute with a smile. “Twenty-four years ago, I worked here too.”
Once the bus was cleared, it was allowed to proceed.
Liu Jianguo joked, “Should we get our jeep checked too?” Lin Dawei gave it a thorough once-over with his rifle. I smiled at him as we restarted. Liu Jianguo asked me, “Do you think their methods are too rough?”
I shook my head. “Drug smugglers are ruthless and cunning. I’ve read that border defenses intercept 70-80% of narcotics.”
Liu Jianguo sighed. “Yet enormous quantities still slip through—the profits are just too high.”
By nightfall, we reached a border town bustling with trade but surrounded by impoverished villages. At the armed police compound, a kind-faced man in his thirties named Geng Dengfeng—Geng Zhi’s youngest son—greeted us, recognizing Liu Jianguo immediately.
“Lin Dawei reported a military jeep helped nab two smugglers today,” Geng Dengfeng said. “I knew it had to be you, Uncle Liu. How long are you staying this time?”
Liu Jianguo had returned many times to search for the five men’s remains and was well-acquainted with Geng Dengfeng. He introduced me: “This is Xiao Qi, a friend helping me find my comrades’ bones.”
Geng Dengfeng, amiable but unlike Shen Yihu in temperament, ushered us inside. In the courtyard, I spotted the bespectacled young man from the train, staring skyward as if searching for something.
I called out, “We meet again!” He looked down, saw Little Rascal in my arms, and grinned. “Small world. Here to pay respects to the martyrs?”
“Just some business,” I replied. Geng Dengfeng explained, “This is Lin Danan, Lin Dawei’s younger brother. He’s visiting Yunnan and dropped by to see his sibling.”
Lin Danan’s eyes lit up at Xie Lingyu’s white-clad figure. Adjusting his collar, he stammered, “Hello! I’m Lin Danan. And you are…?”
Xie Lingyu saw through him instantly. “Calling me ‘sister’ makes me sound old. Just call me Xie Lingyu.”
Lin Danan frowned. “Have we met before? You seem familiar.” Xie Lingyu laughed behind her hand.
Liu Jianguo pulled Geng Dengfeng and me aside. “Xiao Qi, tell him what supplies you need—we’ll get them ready for tomorrow’s trip into Zheyin Mountain.”
I listed my requirements: a bottle of virgin boy’s urine, strands of an 80-year-old woman’s hair, dried geckos… Geng Dengfeng’s smile froze, but out of respect for Liu Jianguo, he didn’t question it.
Clearly, Liu Jianguo had tried everything over the years—now resorting to “unorthodox methods.” He clapped Geng Dengfeng’s shoulder. “Your uncle’s no fool. Just prepare what he asked.”
Geng Dengfeng had me write everything down, then dispatched soldiers to gather the items. It took most of the night.
Meanwhile, Lin Danan chatted animatedly with Xie Lingyu. “What were you looking at earlier?” she asked.
“Something flying up there,” he replied. Then, again, “Xie Lingyu, are you sure we haven’t met?”
She giggled. “This is my first time in Yunnan.”
Just then, Lin Dawei’s jeep roared in. Lin Danan clammed up like a mouse spotting a cat.
Lin Dawei, boots thudding impressively, reported to Geng Dengfeng: the smugglers had been handed to narcotics police. One had swallowed over thirty drug packets, the other forty-plus.
Geng Dengfeng grinned. “Stop sulking. You’ve been wanting to meet a real legend—this is Liu Jianguo, one of the six heroes who infiltrated enemy lines.”
Lin Dawei snapped a salute. “The Liu Jianguo who risked his life scouting behind enemy lines?”
Liu Jianguo waved it off. “Just a name. The real heroes are the ones who didn’t come back…”
The mood turned somber. Geng Dengfeng suggested dinner at a local eatery, urging Lin Dawei to change into civilian clothes.
Lin Danan, cowed by his brother, hunched his bespectacled, screen-addicted frame and stayed silent.
The small restaurant served wild game. Geng Dengfeng nixed alcohol since we had an early start, so we settled for beer with our meal.
Lin Danan confessed he’d come not just to tour Yunnan but to honor the war’s fallen—and investigate a rumor.
Lin Dawei’s glare cut him off. “You’re still on about that nonsense? I told you—it’s fake!”
Lin Danan gulped water defiantly. “I saw it with my own eyes!”
Lin Dawei, restraining himself, scoffed, “A green-clad female demon waiting on a rock? Ridiculous!”
Turns out, three months prior, Lin Danan had seen this “demon” and become obsessed.
Xie Lingyu and I exchanged glances—what would a demon see in this unremarkable bookworm?
Liu Jianguo tossed me the hot potato. “Brother Xiao here’s the expert. He’ll set you straight.”
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